


Love on the Water, Love Underwater

by janvandyne



Series: Thor / Jotun Princess Snapshot Series [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 01:14:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11749035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janvandyne/pseuds/janvandyne
Summary: Thor comes across you swimming deep in the Royal Woods and sets out to claim his prize.





	Love on the Water, Love Underwater

  


_You want a better story. Who wouldn’t?  
A forest, then. Beautiful trees. And a lady singing.   
                _ Love on the water, love underwater, love, love _and so on._  
What a sweet lady. Sing lady, sing! Of course, she wakes the dragon.  **  
**

\- Richard Siken **  
**

* * *

You’re learning to appreciate the warm Asgardian sun.

The cold plains of Jotunheimr are a thing of the past, replaced now with the lands of your betrothed. They are bright and golden like the man himself, sunkissed and warm, no doubt blessed by their gods.

It has taken months, but no longer do you hole up in your palace chambers with nothing to keep you company but the enchanted ice that Thor has gifted you with. You’ve taken to exploring the Royal Woods outside the palace, spending many mornings swimming in the cool lake. Thor had taken you one day, hoping the water would offer you some reprieve from the fever that had overcome you, and so it did. And you’ve returned ever since.

You’re floating on the water, the front of your body turned upward toward the sun, the rays caressing your skin, hot like Thor’s hands all over your flesh. Your lips turn up in a smirk at the thought, your body beginning to thrum with want.

You’ll relax here for a while, then lay out on the shore, let the fur throw waiting for you on the grass caress your back as you explore yourself with your fingers. You’ll nap after, then take your lunch in the palace gardens, hopefully accompanied by your prince.

“Has Asgard ever seen such a jewel?”

You set yourself upright, submerging your body in the water as you kick your legs to keep you afloat. You find Thor standing at the edge of the pier, handsome and regal as ever. He looks out of place here, deep in the Royal Woods wearing his formal clothes, his red cape billowing in the soft wind behind him. His ornamental armor shining, his hair sparkling, the sun shimmering off of the golden rings and traditional Jotun braids you put in it earlier this morning, along with his gilded coronet, deep-etched and encrusted with rubies.

The coupling of Jotun and Asgardian pleases you. Thor has made an effort to embrace your customs and his showing has forced others to at least tolerate them as well. Their future queen is of Jotunheimr after all, their current king half-Jotun himself. All of the people of Asgard may not be happy with you ascending the throne, but that matters not.

What matters is peace between the realms, a life free from war, and you and Thor together as you’re meant to be.

You dive down into the water and swim to the pier. When you emerge, Thor has taken to one knee, smiling down at you. He leans down as you pull yourself halfway out of the water, the two of you meeting in the middle. He kisses you, soft and light, a loving greeting for his betrothed.

“Have you been here all morning?” he asks.

“I take pleasure in it,” you reply, sinking back down into the water until it covers your shoulders. “The water cools the flesh.”

Thor continues to smile, watching you for a moment before he speaks again. “Come,” he says, holding out his hand. “We shall find our pleasure elsewhere.”

You smirk at him and start moving away, arms gliding through the water as you slowly propel yourself backward. When you’re far enough out of reach, your kick your leg up, flinging water in Thor’s direction, careful not to actually splash him.

He stands, acting as though scandalized. “Must I come claim you, then?” he asks, already unclasping the buckle at his shoulder with nimble, practiced fingers.

You lower your gaze, looking at him through spiky-wet lashes. Your voice deepens, a dare, as you say, “If you can brave the icy depths of  _Svartr_ ** _Tjǫrn_** , mighty prince, then you may claim your prize.”

“As you wish,” he says in reply, and lets his cape billow down to a crimson heap on the ground.

He removes the coronet from his head and drops it on to his cape, then steps out of his boots, unbuckles his golden breastplate, and the rest of his clothes quickly follow until he is standing gloriously nude in the sparkling sunlight.

Thor is nothing like the men from your home, but he’s beautiful in his own way. The Jotun men are strong, but slender and lean. They have blue skin in varying shades, decorated with scars and shaved bare. Thor is thick and broad, tall for an Aesir, with bronze skin, golden hair, and piercing blue eyes. He is hard as marble all over as though chiseled by the Vanir, an imitation of their own god-like image.  

And he stands watching you, statuesque, proud in his undress and already enticingly half-hard.

“Are you afraid, Thor-prince?” you call, teasing, coaxing him from where he still stands on the pier. “Not yet ready to face the monsters of the frozen deep?”

Thor looks taken aback for a moment, then without any further preamble, he dives in the water, a perfect arch, cutting the smooth surface with his hands. He must swim deep because you lose track of him, lost in the depths of the lake. You kick your legs, spinning yourself in a circle, searching the water for his form.

Strong arms wrap around your from behind and you gasp in surprise. You struggle in Thor’s grasp but he only laughs at your efforts, holding you even tighter until you surrender to him. As always, his presence intrudes upon your calm and quiet. But you’ve had enough calm for today. You’re ready to have  _Thor_.

With one arm still around your waist, he buries his other hand into your wet hair, using it to tilt your head to the side so that he may press his lips to your neck.

“You are mine, princess,” he says in your ear, breath pleasantly hot against your skin. You can feel him pressed against you, hard chest against your back, thick cock against your ass. The arm wrapped around your middle reaches up to pluck a nipple between his fingers, pulling at the gold ring piercing it as he adds, “My prize rightfully claimed.”

You gasp in response, then lean your head back to rest on his shoulder. You turn your head, lips brushing against his cheek as you reply, “Not yet  _claimed_.”

Thor turns you around in his arms, and you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck.

“We shall remedy that presently,” he says.

“Then do so, Thor,” you reply. “You’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

He laughs. “As you wish.”

You tighten your thighs around his waist and lean back - chest pushed forward, back arched - to wring out your hair. You take it in your hands and squeeze the water from it, head tilted back and eyes closed, savoring the last moments of the cool water coupled with the warm sun against your skin as Thor walks the both of you to the shore.

His hands are holding onto your waist, his firm grip keeping you upright, his lips pressing kisses to your breasts. You moan at the feeling, loving his hot mouth against your skin. He growls in response, adding his teeth, nipping at your sensitive breasts before soothing the marks with his tongue.  

Once on the shore, he lays you down on the fur and covers your body with his own, his hips settling between your parted thighs. You can feel his hard dick against your core, his chest pressed against your own. He holds his weight up on his elbows on either side of your body, forearms beneath your shoulders, his large palms cradling the back of your head.

He leans down and kisses you, more hurried and fervent than before. It’s almost overwhelming, the way he overpowers you, circling you in his arms, guiding you where he wants with his fingers buried in your hair. Too much and not enough at the same time.

When he pulls back, his lips are pink and swollen. His hair is hanging wet around his face as if covered in liquid gold. You reach up and smooth the silky strands back, tucking them behind his ears, before pulling him back down to you.

After another kiss you moan, “Thor the Thunderer,” lips brushing his lips. “Thor the Conqueror. What do you intend to do now that you have me?”

His palm glides against your wet skin, sliding down then side of your neck and across your collarbone to cup your breast. He pinches your nipple, almost too hard, drawing a sharp gasp from you. He noses at your neck, nips your earlobe. You roll your hips against his, your question forgotten.

“I thought it was clear that I would lay claim to my prize,” he says, tone deeper than usual. His ordinarily booming voice now no more than a whisper.

“Claim me then, Thor,” you sigh, urging him on with another roll of your hips. “Make me yours.”

Thor raises up abruptly, sitting back on his haunches. He grabs the back of your knee, lifting your leg in the air, your calf resting against his shoulder. He turns his head and places a kiss to the inside of your ankle, then looks back down at you.

“Are you not yet mine?” he asks, and you can hear the faint disappointment in his voice hidden beneath the desire. “What else would you have of me?”

You smile sweetly up at him, feigning innocence. Will you ask him now since he is offering? It is an Aesir mating tradition to gift your betrothed with a ring, yet you were without. You had not burdened him with this desire before, aware of his displeasure with the match at the beginning of your courtship, but you want it now, a tangible sign of your pairing for all to see.

“Gift me with a ring,” you say. “A proper ring fit for your future wife.” You roll your body like a wave, chest arching up in a stretch, then stomach, and hips. And, as if an afterthought, you add, “And a crown to match.”

Thor grabs your jaw and instinctively you latch on to his forearm with both hands, fingernails digging into his flesh. His mood is unpredictable, his actions even more so, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t afraid of the man, or at least afraid of what he was capable of.

“You’re a covetous girl,” he growls. “Insatiable.”

You smile, showing teeth. You love it when Thor gets like this – feral, wild. Underneath that cloak of aristocracy there was something tameless about him, the soul of a berserker simmering just beneath the surface of his skin. It both scares and excites you, the adrenaline making your heart beat faster.

“You shall get your crown at your accession,” Thor tells you. He leans down, pushing your leg toward your chest, and kisses you hard before pulling away again. “Does that please you? A beautiful crown fashioned from gold, with sapphires to compliment your skin, rubies to match your eyes?”

He moves his hand from your jaw and slides it down your chest, hooking a fingertip into your nipple ring and pulling. You cry out at the sharp bite of pain, the shock of pleasure that makes your clit throb.

“We shall put emeralds in it too. And amethysts and citrines.” He pulls again. “Is that what you want?”

“Oh,  _yes_ , Thor!” you gasp. “Yes,  _please_.”

He wraps his free hand around your shin, still in the air and held up by his body. Your other leg is wrapped around his hip, thighs spread wide to accommodate his large, powerful frame. He lets go of your nipple ring and places his palm and four fingers over your pelvis, gently holding you down, while his thumb rubs delicate circles against your clit.

“The ring I should have already given you,” he says, a devious twinkle in his eye, his lips moving against the inside of your ankle. “Forgive me, princess, I shall make it up to you.”

He starts moving his hips, miniscule thrusts that nudges his dick against your cunt; the hot, huge tip barely breaching your entrance before pulling back out again. He does it again and again, soft and promising as a kiss. And you’re growing even more wet, coating the head of his cock with your slick every time he pushes forward.

Thor has taught you how to seek out your pleasure, and in return you’ve taught him patience in seeking his, but that now is working to your disadvantage because his teasing seems endless. It’s torturous, these slow, shallow thrusts. Cruel, the way he torments you so. Giving you just a taste of ecstasy before taking it back again.

“Fuck me, Thor,” you command of him, your hands reaching up to grab at his hair. “I grow weary of your teasing.”

Thor chuckles, but submits to your demand. “As you wish, princess.”

He moves your leg from his shoulder to wrap around his waist. With both hands holding you beneath your knees, legs spread wide, he lines his cock up to your wet, waiting pussy and slowly, slowly, slowly slides inside.

“My  _god_ ,” you sigh, back arching, hips rolling up to meet Thor’s. “My  _Thor_.”

Once he’s buried deep inside of you, he pauses, taking the time to run his palms up your thighs, your hips, your waist. His hands move further still to tangle themselves in your hair, a pillow between you and the fur-covered ground.

Thor lies down, his chest against yours, covering you with his massive body. Your hands grip his arms, his skin smooth and warm beneath your fingertips. His blue eyes are staring down into yours, lips so close they’re almost touching your own.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, his voice a low growl. “Is this what you were so impatient to have? My cock deep inside of you, filling you up?”

His words travel like lightening down your spine, your pussy clenching around him where he’s sheathed to the hilt inside of you. When you don’t answer, he presses forward, pushing in even deeper until you’re calling out to him.

“I overindulge you,” Thor continues, words sealed with a feather soft kiss. “I have spoiled you, my little princess, and now you’re never satisfied until I have given into your every whim.”

You move to take his long hair in your grasp but he catches your wrists before you can, holding your hands above your head in his tight grip. He looks down at you, smiling that infuriatingly vicious grin, but  _oh_  you love it because it’s true.

He has given you whatever you’ve desired, which is usually Thor, Thor, Thor, inside of you, around you, above you. He may jest and tease, taunting to get a rise out of you, but you know he loves it just as much as you.

“I am not some pampered –OH!” you moan when Thor finally pulls back and thrusts in to you.

He does it again. Again. His movements slow, restrained as he fucks you. He buries himself deep, so deep you can feel every inch of his hard, thick length as he languidly sinks in to you, the drag of his cock against your walls when he pulls out.

He leans down, wrists still in his hands so you can’t move, lips against your jaw as he asks, “What were you saying,  _my pampered little pet_?”

“Pet?” you gasp. “I am your future Queen, you b _-east_!”

“And I, your  _King_ ,” he says, the words like a threat as he whispers them into your ear.

Thor gives you a few more thrusts before he slides out of you, to your dismay. But he then flips you over on your front, grabbing your hips and pulling them up so your ass is in the air, face buried in the soft fur beneath you.

You prepare yourself for his cock, but instead you get his hot mouth against your cunt, velvet beard against your thighs. You gasp in surprise, rocking forward before he pulls you back to him. He gets both hands on you, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass cheeks, battle-worn palms spreading you open so that he may properly devour you with his mouth, his tongue, his teeth.

The first touch of his tongue against your clit is electric, sending currents coursing through your body. You push back, wanting more. Wanting his whole mouth against you, wanting him to ravage you.

Thor sucks on your clit, keeping a firm pressure on the sensitive nub as his rough hands hold on to the back of your thighs, thumbs spreading your outer lips. It’s almost too much, his hot mouth around your clit, soft beard against your skin. And the sounds he makes, the deep, rumbling growl that reverberates through your cunt, is enough to make your muscles weak.

He dips his thick tongue inside of you, moaning as he tastes you. He takes one of his hands and moves it to your clit, rubbing it as he tongue-fucks you, the dual sensations making your body tense, back stretching in to a deep arch as you press your pussy back in to Thor’s face.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you come, that coil of pleasure low in your stomach snapping loose. Your breath catches in your throat, and you can’t say anything, can’t do anything but hold on to the pelt beneath you and let Thor complete ruin you with his tongue and his fingers.

Thor’s mouth stays on you as you come down, moving to lick your clit soft and slow after he withdraws his fingers. Once your hips begin to still, only then does he give your sensitive cunt some reprieve as he moves down to kiss your ass cheek, the back of your thigh.

While you’re still weak, weightless, he guides you down with a hand on the small of your back until you’re lying on your stomach, hands reaching up above you to grab at the blanket. He sits astride your hips, legs on either side of your own. You can feel the thick weight of his cock resting against your ass, his hands slowly sliding up the long length of your back.

“Fill me up,” you beg, your voice barely even a whisper. “My prince. My Thor.”

Wordlessly he slides once more into your pussy, giving you, as always, what you desire. He drapes his body over yours, broad chest against your back. The weight of him on top of you feels divine. The vast expanse of him covering you is comforting, pleasing. The feeling of his skin, his smell wrapped around you, makes you shake with pleasure.

Thor snakes a hand beneath your body and finds your clit, strumming it with his practiced fingers. His other hand finds its way around your throat, turning your head to the side. His breath is hot against your cheek where his lips are pressed against your flushed skin as he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your face, your jaw.

“My sweet, spoiled princess,” he moans, his voice deep and low. “Your greedy cunt was made just for my cock, was it not? Made just for  _me._ ”

You melt at his words, sinking further into the fur beneath you as Thor eases his hips back, sliding his cock out of you, and then filling you back up. His movements aren’t slow as they were before, but he keeps a steady pace, his powerful body moving against you, knees bracketing your hips as he holds you close.

“Oh, Thor, please,” you beg. “I want to feel you come. Come inside of me.  _Please_.”

He doesn’t respond with words, but his pace quickens as he spears you with his perfect cock, his grip tightening around your throat. And not for the first time you’re truly aware of the fact that Thor holds your life in his war-rugged hands.

Thor, God of Thunder and of Lightening, Prince Eternal of the Nine Realms, Defender of Midgardian-kind, the most powerful being you know, and he’s yours. Bowing to your every whim and want. The thought makes you come and you cry out, no longer able to form words. Tears prick yours eyes, your throat tightens, and you claw at the fur, gathering it in your fists.

Thor growls above you, bites down on the curve between your neck and shoulder. His pace is brutal now, pushing your hips into the ground, grinding your clit harder against his nimble fingers, still massaging the sensitive little nub.

You come around his cock, your pussy clenching around him as he thrusts himself inside of you one last time. He buries himself deep inside of your cunt, his pelvis flush against your ass, his hot come filling you up as you writhe and moan below him.

After you both come down, Thor rolls off of you and takes you with him, both of you laying on your sides as he presses up against you from behind. You never thought you would have this. Not with anyone. And certainly not with anyone like Thor.

You turn in his arms, facing him, looking up at his face where his bronze eyelashes rest against his cheekbones. He looks unworried like this, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. And for you, the cold plains of Jotunheimr seem far away with the heat of Thor’s body so close.

His hand slides down to your ass and he grabs it, fingertips kneading the soft flesh, before he traces your crack and slides a finger into your wet pussy, slow and deep. He likes to feel his come inside of you, to know that he filled you full of his seed. Any other time he would be talking of heirs, of Thor–sons and –dottirs, but today he seems content in just basking in the moment.

And you’re happy laying your head on his broad chest, listening to his heart beat, feeling the ebb and flow of his abating breath.

“Wake me at noon, Thor,” you say, already half-asleep yourself. “We wouldn’t want to miss lunch.”

You can feel him chuckle, a dull vibration deep in his chest, and you melt further still into his embrace. He kisses the top of your head as his finger slides into you even deeper, keeping you full. You sigh, satisfied, practically purring in contentment and you barely hear Thor when he whispers, “ _As you wish_.”


End file.
